The Identity
by Sunnyside Down
Summary: HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

_The Identity_

Sunnyside Down

* * *

"The value of identity of course is that so often with it comes purpose."  
- Richard R. Grant

* * *

**Summary: **One month. Two bets; the first lost by an unwilling participant, the second will later spur a hero war that was years in the making. In the middle of the chaos are the Titans, the creators of the second bet, as they blur the lines between virtue and sin in a desperate attempt to take their leader back from Slade with the little information they have been given: his identity.  
**Rating: **Teen (mild language; heavy violence; physical abuse/torture; suicide and homicide; dark themes).  
**Disclaimer: **The Teen Titans; Slade/Deathstroke and William Wintergreen; the Justice League (including Superman, Wonder Woman, The Green Lantern, Flash, Martian Manhunter, Batman, and Aquaman); other Justice League members including (but not limited to) Oracle, Zatanna, the Vixen, the Black Canary, and Zauriel; and Batman's arch-foes including (but not limited to) the Joker, the Riddler, Two-Face, Catwoman, and the Penguin and all of their respective environments and circumstances are copyrighted by D.C. Comics. Spiderman and the X-Men and their respective environments and circumstances are copyrighted by Marvel Comics. The concept of Cooms, Snarkel, Pollick, and the Jump City Dandy Dogs; K'baazh; Luke'sa and Juveil; and other minor characters belong to Sunnyside Down. Some mechanics in this universe conflict too closely with copyrighted material to be considered the author, such as the pasts of Robin's parents. Some major plot points may conflict with the D.C. and Marvel canon storylines. The basic concept of _The Identity _has been used in several other fan-fiction arcs (such as Robin yet again being kidnapped by Slade), but any uncited passages or closely aligning complex story-arcs will be reported and it will be requested that the offender's account be terminated.

All comments, questions, and regards can be sent through a review. Both signed and anonymous reviews are accepted. All questions will be answered through PM and all questions are welcome.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy _The Identity. _

* * *

Chapter 1

"A few observations and much reasoning lead to error; many observations and a little reasoning lead to truth."  
- Alexis Carrel

* * *

Raven of Azarath was a natural observer. She never found herself to be particularly curious. It was when there was a malfunction that she had the sudden motivation to take a much-needed second look. 

She was the most perspective of the team. Instead of rushing headlong into a situation like Robin; ignoring the undertones much like Cyborg; or simply disregarding most things like Starfire and Beast Boy, Raven strived to know her enemies – a stroke deadly, ghastly but essential in completing the portrait. Slade had been no different. His long-term presence in Jump City allowed her to know more about him than any other.

Instead of simply disliking him, however, she hated him.

She despised the way his name formed around his lips the first time she uttered it; his first appearance drew suspicions from dust. She could not doubt his skill. She admired it. The Titans had needed a challenge, a spot he dominated for nearly a year. Something – small, almost insignificant at first – struck a chill in the air and hunted rabid butterflies with the mention of his name. Not fright, not even that of awe; instead, knowing.

Slade did not talk to Robin – he purred.

Only she noticed.

His motives were taken literally by the other Titans, but he set plans into motion just to see Robin. Nothing more, especially nothing less.

Raven hated it.

It might have been a game at first. Her observations then proved Slade's goal had been to toy with their minds. Misleading the leader was basic villainy, an obvious tactic; but his purpose became more apparent as time passed. As orange and black robots mixed into salty air and stretching black abyss, Raven overheard Slade mutter something so smoothly, possessively it scared her:

"I want _you_."

She scarcely left Robin's side for the next week and a half.

The inevitable happened. Hair caked in sewage waste and temper flaring, she had left Robin alone so she and the others could deactivate a dud. Guilt inflicted ten thousand nettles in her skull each time she tried to think; their first encounter with Robin in orange and black made invisible swords pierce her heart. Over the course of a month, Beast Boy's elaborate plots of brainwashing, zombies, and clones stumbled upon deaf ears, forcing him to find comfort in dogs and birds; Cyborg's lost faith in their leader developed into hatred towards the Titans, a transformation that later nearly had Beast Boy killed; and Starfire swept into a chamber of confusion and depression, flinging her towards returning home – all while Raven flipped through unread book by unread book, muttering silly words in hopes of contacting Robin on mental planes.

Slade's advantage over Robin was them, a revelation that inevitably drew them back together. Following the trail of dog howls and flapping wings was the first joint effort the team had done in weeks, and blasting into Slade's lair sent sparkles of newfound hope into their hearts.

As they slowly walked home beneath the city lights, Raven appreciated the smell of the ocean for the first time.

The event lingered then dissipated into other events. Slade reappeared several months later and brought hell with him. Terra fell in and out of their lives – as most things did, as Slade did. He burned in a mixture of lava and betrayal.

Trigon swept him back into their lives, his worst appearance yet. Robin's obsession intensified.

Raven tried to speak of her suspicions. The words formed on her lips, sentences slipped into place, evidence built a steady ground, but she never followed through. The attention she needed was hard to grab – the call of duty interrupted many personal strives.

Only once had she gotten something out to Cyborg. The ocean air tickled her nostrils, noticed for the first time, as the Team walked scattered across blacktop. With a hand clamped on her shoulder, he confidently said, "If something was wrong, Robin would tell us."

Robin would never tell. He was never meant for a team.

Raven once gathered the guts to question him but only met a blank stare. Then his nose crunched as his eyes narrowed almost menacingly, his lip thinning into a scowl. A theft on 72nd Street dropped the conversation for her.

Tonight changed things. As the sun dove slowly into the ocean's horizon and the city lights flickered unenthusiastically to life, the Titans huddled uneasily in the main room, indirectly contemplating the subject Raven had tried discussing for nearly a year.

After a confrontation with Slade earlier that afternoon, Robin had gone missing.

"We fell for it _again!" _Beast Boy cried, smacking his head several times against the extended couch. His eyes were directed towards the others bunched worriedly to his side as he fiddled with his hands. "If this was the _first _time," he licked his lips nervously, then nearly bared his canines, "that would understandable, but this is the second frickin' time. Whatever happened to," (he transformed into a gorilla – his best impersonation of Cyborg), "'_We're going to have to keep a better eye on him'_?"

Cyborg was not amused. "His robots were too much, alright? I had to take an eye off 'im for one second to keep us _alive. _What the hell were you doin'? Last time I checked, this was a joint effort!"

"Please, friends," Starfire said, "we have not the time to fight. Robin is in danger."

Raven sunk into the couch as she closed her eyes lightly in a fruitless attempt to relieve her headache. "She's right. Nothing is going to change that Robin is gone. The question is what are we going to do about it?"

"We're a step ahead this time," Cyborg said, lifting himself heavily onto his feet, the wood floors creaking under his weight. "Slade has to use us again – we're the only thing he's got." He stepped cautiously forward, as if the floor was a touch-activated trap. "We have to find the threat and get rid of it before he gets rid of us… no pressure, though."

Raven shrugged, rubbing his temples slowly. Every word formed another nettle. "We don't even know if he wants him as an apprentice anymore."

A silence stuffed the room. She half-expected Beast Boy to lecture on how _optimism _helped in times such as this, but his fidgeting only grew worse.

"We…" Cyborg said. "… need to search everything. Bodies, rooms, storage – _everything. _We find Slade's leverage tonight."

They searched into the evening, into night, through blood, rooms, and intelligent designs. Cyborg led the operation, scanning rooms for explosives and bodies for smaller threats; Beast Boy scurried through rafters, vents, and ocean floors; Starfire discarded any food and all the planets; and though Raven offered her help, she lost faith in the whole expedition during the first thirty minutes.

Slade prided himself with originality. Even if he had reintroduced Robin into a forced apprenticeship, he would take different measures to do so; more drastic ones.

Quietly, thoughtfully, Raven pushed herself into a room of orange and black pictures on articles and an empty bed, the last place to check. It almost seemed sacred, eerie as the door swung shut from window's breeze. The impact rattled dust off the walls. Grey eyes stared through her from cluttered desk, floors, and walls and through clippings clumped together.

She situated herself on worn carpet and beckoned a box of papers near. It overflowed with thinning blueprints. "Pointless," she muttered but idly flipped through them despite. Recent prints were discovered and a weird habit took hold. Robin had created escape routes from every room - bathrooms, office spaces, even utility closets. He never showed fear, but the pages did.

"Something was wrong," she mumbled. She flipped quickly through the remainder of the stack, her eyes concentrating on thousands of solid yellow marks. "Something _is _wrong."

She shoved the blueprints into the decaying box, pulled two others towards her, and continued her search more intensely, but the search was in vain. The one other time she had ventured into Robin's room, she had noted how _neat _it was. No misplaced paper or object and a perfectly made bed, almost to the point of compulsion. Papers now littered the room, crawling from overstuffed boxes and seeping from a cluttered desk. Robin's sheets had not been washed for months.

It was as though he was desperate.

"There's no major threat to the city," a voice said. Raven glanced over her shoulder to find Cyborg leaning weary in the doorway. He shuffled into the room, heaving a halfhearted sigh. "I almost wish there was." He clicked his tongue. "Found anything?"

"No." She continued to flip through newspapers. Evidence was too rocky for the blueprints. She soon lost interest in the articles. Any crime Slade committed had unlikely correlations. 'Other than getting closer to Robin,' she thought. A flicker of black crossed her mind. She concentrated on empty walls to calm herself, but her eyes were drawn towards orange and black photos.

She examined each, her eyes trailing carefully across his walls. Mask after mask, headline after headline. An abnormality lied amongst the chaos, nestled unevenly between clippings of decent successes. She dropped the papers and drifted to the wall.

A dent embedded itself lightly into tan, the slightest hint of dark orange playing on its surface. Raven lifted a fingernail and scrapped a few flakes. They fell silently, like dust, onto carpet grain.

"Cyborg," she said. "Get Beast Boy."

He hesitated, his lips quirking downwards, but discarded his current clipping to grab his communicator. "Beast Boy, met me in Robin's room." He snapped the lid before receiving a reply. "What's wrong?"

She did not hear him. The paint grew brighter as she stared, guilt tearing through her chest, drowning out fear and confusion. Metal shoes clunked against floorboards as Cyborg approached the wall. "You've gotta be… _shit!" _He swung around, boot ripping the brim of the carpet, and stomped a few steps across the room before returning for a second look. "Only sound coming from here for months was Robin muttering to himself. Why didn't my cameras catch him? I should've known!"

Tearing her eyes from the wall, Raven floated silently to the open window, blinds crusted in solid dust and orange flakes. Her stomach chocked on acid butterflies.

Just as the urge to leave gripped her, she sensed Beast Boy shuffling diffidently down the hallway. Regret, fear, knowing, _anger. _In a moment less than a flutter of a blink, her mind eye revealed Robin huddled over cluttered desk, tracing exits on torn blueprints as Beast Boy, a wolf, slept restlessly just beyond the door while the moon crossed a city-lit night.

Ears dipped, he stood in the doorway, staring into the room as though it was not a room at all but a cell. "Whatcha need?" he said slowly. Two flinches, both attempts to enter the room, and then a step onto worn carpet. His nose immediately clenched, his eyes narrowed, and he drew an arm to protect his nostrils.

"He was here, wasn't he?" Raven said. She felt cornered suddenly, naked.

Cyborg was skeptical, perhaps ignorant. "Slade's in an armored suit. You can barely get a scent from that."

"We invaded his lair, dude, remember? The place frickin' _stunk." _He sneezed, drops of salvia wetting his lowered arm, but the limb was immediately replaced between lip and nose. He scuffled back, a silent plea to remove himself from judging grey eyes, but he never received a positive reply.

"When…" Cyborg said, his lips curled in an annoyed scowl, "… do you think he was here last?"

Beast Boy shook his head, licking chapped lips. "… two, three days," he said hoarsely. "Could'a been a 'bot."

Black lightning reigned violently behind closed eyes. Meditation on the foot of the un-kept bed calmed the storm. But as Cyborg paced from wall to wall, muttering a string of curses, and Beast Boy failed in another attempt to remove himself from the room, another image grasped Raven's imagination. Dark orange and dull silver in a sea of black silk. Her eyes flung open and she hastily flipped, overturning silk sheets. Stuffed under his pillow lied an orange and black communicator. She handled it tentatively and placed it lightly in her palms. Slade's symbol gleamed dully with the half-dead overhead light. Paint chipped, flakes blending into silk, as she tightened her grasp and the lid creaked upon release.

A recorded transmission of Slade, green, translucent. The image skipped and delayed. A grave moment of silence, then Slade's voice (hideous, smooth, _purring_) slipped statically into attention. "Hello, my dear Robin. I sincerely hope you are… enjoying your vacation with your friends. I'm afraid but very delighted, however, to announce that it will all soon be coming to an end." A brief chuckle. "Now, now, no need for such a temper. I have a proposition for you – a bet, if you will. Unfortunately for you, dear bird, you have _no choice _in the matter… but you're a smart boy. You already knew that."

Cyborg and Beast Boy leaned over her shoulders, their decreased breathing battering her pale cheeks.

"It goes something like this: it lies on the plane and mystery that is an identity. With all those documents on my successes, you must have gotten somewhere on mine, and I am making progress with yours. Whoever finds the other's identity wins."

A thoughtful pause. "But that's really no fun. Not without stakes. And the stake, dear boy, is you. You will return to my side upon my victory, and I shall rid you of my presence upon yours. There are boundaries, of course. What would a bet be without them? None of your… silly friends are to hear of this – if they do, I automatically win. And no Batman – we don't want this to get _messy, _do we? I, on the other hand, vow not to torture any of the mention peoples for information… a fair trade, I believe.

"There is no time limit; terminated only by death, something neither of us will be experiencing soon, I'm sure.

"If I were you, I would be fretting – it's your life, my little bird." No mask could hide his tooth-filled grin. _"Time's ticking." _The communicator snapped shut automatically; the faint sound of the manual clock echoed through the air.

A stuffed silence, left for dead under the setting sun. Starfire, standing awkwardly against the doorframe, popped it. "Friends…" she said, slightly dazed, "… what has happened to our Robin?"

"He lost," Raven said. Slade's coat-of-arms attracted her stare. "Robin lost the bet."

* * *

Dinner did not exist that night. The clock struck ten as the Titans sat motionless around the pristine table. The steaks – four real, one tofu – marinated for the team's twenty-sixth-month anniversary rotted, uncooked, in the sink. The arraying lights of the muted news illuminated their faces. 

Upon hearing the bet, Cyborg attempted to break out of tower and into Slade's old lair; Beast Boy exerted too much joy slamming the mechanic into kitchen walls. Starfire ended the conflict with sobbing words, leading to a silence which stung.

Cool wind from opened windows bristled, bringing unnoticed goose bumps. A click as Starfire's fingernail chipped on metal as she timidly twirled her hair. The television lights highlighted the lead chair, desolate.

As though silence recoiled and snapped viciously before them, Cyborg kicked back his chair and yelled, "Why are we still just sitting here? We should be searching for him. He's out there!"

"We have nowhere to look," Raven said.

"We'll start in the slums, expand from there. We'll call the Justice League – Batman! Slade won't stand a chance."

"The Justice League?" She rolled her eyes with a chuckle. "When was the last time they went into action? All they do is run evaluations. It'll be weeks of questioning and investigation before Superman even lifts a pebble."

"This is Robin we're talkin' about!"

"It doesn't matter. He lost the bet. We can't do anything."

Cyborg's face reddened. "We were never a part of that frickin' bet! He didn't even agree to the damn thing."

"Of course he did. If he 'adn't, we'd be having this conversation month ago."

"Please, friends," Starfire said, releasing a strand of hair, "do not let us perform the useless argumentation. We must acquire the mind of Robin."

Raven's shoulders sagged. "… She's right, Cyborg."

"He'd do anything to get one of us back – especially from Slade," he said. "He wouldn't be just sitting here."

"Maybe not, but he'd take the time to think."

The argument was lost in a splay of mundane colors. "I'm going to check the security cameras," Cyborg said, his voice soft in defeat. He stepped heavily away from pristine. "I'll find something." He shook his head. "I have to find something." His jaw set, he left the room, immune to any replies.

With a tired, gentle sigh, Starfire arose, finding stability in the air. "I shall accompany Cyborg and participate in the watching of cameras." She excused herself after a short, but weary bow and followed Cyborg's fading footsteps.

Breeze and color danced mournful steps upon the tabletop, drawing attention away from unspoken words. Raven half-wished Beast Boy would wear his stupid grin and start a lecture of optimism and faith, but he stood upon a different plane outside open windows. A blink… another, and then a click. Beast Boy stood slowly, but Raven still jumped, her heart picking up then dropping again. "I'm going out," he said. He left, a hawk, through the side window, his body blending into sullen night.

Raven relaxed awkwardly on the extended cough afterwards, though comfort never came. Images of a political argument sped past on the television, revealing hidden shadows on the walls then cloaking them again. She wondered if they were speaking of Robin. They weren't. No one was. His face would appear on the cover of magazines and newspapers for a month and the Justice League would eventually do their investigation like businessmen, not heroes. Two months, he would be a distant memory; a year, barely remembered at all. Heroes learned to deal with tragedies, but they did not happen with a bet.

Slade's words marched through her mind like a high-pitched, low-quality television show, the words speeding up and slowing down in obscure places. The politicians grew a single grey eye, staring through her, unblinking, as though she had committed a sin. She was not sure if she had.

Her mind changed the channel out of fright. Poker. A man, dirty, desperate, came close to losing everything, but bluffed his way to the top. Countered a bet with on more sinister, more challenging.

While this man enjoyed his unexpected victory, so did Raven. It was a careless idea, an idea that rebelled against everything she vowed – sneaky, hazardous, _criminal. _Just criminal enough to rival him. To make a wager over a life; to lie; to cheat; to steal – the only way she knew how to save a life, _his _life. The only life, at the moment, which mattered.

As the ocean wave crashed violently against the tower's base, the sound crawling through the windows, Raven pushed redial on the remote. The world faded into darkness as the television buzzed and a dial tone, viciously loud, echoed. A click, a shudder, then the image of a devil's throne in the company of clockworks and gears. With hands clammed politely in her lap, she released a deep breath, her face and posture straight.

"Hello, Slade." A smirk, triumphant, emerged. "I'd like to make a bet – one you can't refuse."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"An idea that is not dangerous is unworthy of being called an idea at all."  
- Oscar Wilde

* * *

When a world ends, things change. Perspectives, attitudes, opinions shift upon its destruction; people take different molds; events are looked upon with kaleidoscope eyes. Upon the simple loss of a bet, a world died, and as Raven stood uneasy in the semi-darkness of an alleyway in the slums, a new world began to form. In that old world, she never would have stared at a flickering alley light as though it answered her every question. In that old world, she would be finishing her current novel, her stomach content with the medium-rare steak Cyborg cooked for the Team's anniversary. She would not be out here, never here in this desolate place; never hanging upon the unlikely arrival of an enemy, deeply loathed, at this time of night.

But this was the new world. Things worked differently here.

Raven straightened the collar of her cloak, wrapping it around her mouth in an attempt to warm her quivering lips. She regretted with every hollow breath that she had not worn something warmer, but intimidation was key; sneaky, hazardous, _criminal – _like a demon-princess, like a true citizen of Azarath. Every minute, however, weighed only heavier on her shoulders as the adrenaline she had felt hours earlier flushed out of her system.

Flicker, light; flicker, darkness.

Her chest tightened as her eyes remained glued to the alley light and the firefly inside, which was inevitably caught in a spider's web. For once in her life, she wished to see the glass half-full; wished to be Starfire one damn day. "He'll come," her mind said, lying. "He'll never pass up a game."

Flicker, darkness; flicker, light.

She distracted herself with details – little details, important details; details that allowed no loopholes. Ways to keep her bet completely binding flew disorganized and clustered as the hands of her watch clicked away, approaching midnight. It was a matter now of him coming; it was a matter now of her _winning. _Winning always seemed to be the hardest part.

Flicker, light; flicker, darkness; flicker, light. Raven's head pounded along with the sound of the city clock striking midnight. A shadow emerged at the twelfth ring, stepping heavily, unhesitant, into the dull light of the alleyway.

"The strike of midnight," said Slade, spreading his arms for a dramatic effect. "Just as her royal demon-highness instructed."

"Slade," she said, her voice colder than the late autumn night. She pushed herself off the graffiti-ridden wall, digging her feet harshly into the ground to keep herself from stumbling. Her hand twitched slightly in anticipation. Adrenaline flooded her veins, her body, her brain once more. Her knees locked as she walked towards him, but she held a smirk, unwavering, and her eyes never left his own. Her height made her slightly inferior to him, made her have to tilt her head to look him straight in the eye.

Flicker, light; flicker, darkness; flicker, light.

"Come to accept my bet?" she asked him casually. The intense need to throw him against the nearest wall, to torture him with magic forbidden, to make Robin's location spill from his quivering, dying lips arose, but she felt a sudden bout of restraint. Robots filed on the rooftops, surrounded the alleyway, waited patiently below ground. She kept her eyes on his.

"How could I not?" he said. "I absolutely love games."

A cold gust of wind swept through the alleyway, brought on by a lone car speeding by. It pulled Raven's cloak into the air, causing her to shiver. The smirk held despite. "Shall we discuss the details, then?"

"Of course. What would a bet be without them?"

Flicker, darkness; flicker, light.

"The prize is Robin," she said, unhesitant. "If I win, he returns to Titans and you never come close to him or Jump City again. If… you win," (she hated herself for pausing), "I will report Robin's 'death' to the Justice League, pinning evidence on a false suspect."

"How… _criminal _of you."

She ignored him. "Only you and Teen Titan West will participate. No Justice League, no Batman." She flinched as the words from Slade's previous bet ran through her head: _None of your silly friends are to hear of this – if they do, I automatically win. And no Batman – we don't want this to get _messy_, do we?_ It could get messy in a thousand different ways.

"And no one will be hearing of our bet either, or Robin's… current predicament." She hated his causality. "A time limit, also: one month – thirty days. If you fail to find… us by then, I, of course, win by default."

Flicker, light; flicker darkness.

Her lips curved into a deep scowl.

"If there is a disagreement, we will have to forget about this bet of ours." He leaned forward, his voice as thick as smoke. "You wouldn't like that."

Her smirk returned, her mind narrowed in on an advantage. "For me to accept that, you must give me a clue to Robin's location… and give me his identity." She hovered slightly, confidence growing. "That was the last bet, was it not? Finding his identity?"

Flicker, darkness; flicker, light.

"… I accept your terms."

"And I accept yours."

The sound of sirens echoed eerily in the distance. Another gust of wind entered the alley as another car sped by. The car's lights shined deep into the alleyway, causing Raven to squint. Slade spoke first. "This bet, like the last, lies on the plane and mystery of identity. You might be given a name, but a name is a name and _nothing _more." He folded his hands behind his back, giving a thoughtful look the alley light. Flicker, light; flicker, darkness; flicker, light. "It is the history behind it that makes a name an identity. He will be hidden, metaphorically, in his past. Seek help from whomever you like, even the _great _Dark Knight, but the situation is ours alone."

Raven nodded stiffly. "You'll have enough time," her mind told her soothingly. "You always do." It was lying through its teeth.

"You do realize you have drawn yourself into an impossible bet," Slade crackled. "A month is not possibly enough time to search one's past… and what a past he has…"

"I can," declared Raven, "and I will."

Flicker, darkness; flicker, light.

"Ah determination," said he. "Only the wise knows its power; but yours will be crushed, just like his. I'll have the pleasure watching it happen."

A stream of anger clawed at her chest, demanding release, and she had to do everything possible to keep it in. "I did not come here to be mocked," she growled. "His name, Slade."

Flicker, light; flicker, darkness.

"Richard Greyson – fitting, I guess, but I like _Robin _much better."

Raven's muscles tightened. She crossed the plains of ruthless Anger earlier that day and climbed halfway across the peaks of boundless Rage, but this comment threw her into one of the mountains' dreary caves, a labyrinth known as Uncertainty. Her eyes swung downcast as he purred the words, rapping his tongue around the name as though it was that of a precious possession, not of any human being. The dull ache in her chest cried to destroy him, robot or otherwise; the massive headache pounded her to turn away, to end the conversation; but her heart, beyond the aching pain, whispered secretly, in rebellion, into her ear: "Show him how dangerous Azarathi ideas can really be."

She drew her eyes to the flickering light and Slade just as he was examining his left wrist in a mocking manner. "12:04 a.m., December 10." He glanced up at her, purple eyes meeting a grey one. "I would make the effort to get you an early Christmas present, but seeing that time is indeed not on your side, I don't think Robin and I'll be seeing you for the holidays." He stepped backwards, relaxing himself as though Raven posed no threat – she didn't. "I will wish you an early Thanksgiving, however. We all have _so _much to be thankful for."

Flicker, darkness; flicker, light; flicker, darkness.

"Time's already running out, demon-child. I wouldn't be wasting it, if were you."

The alley light gave its last, but in that momentary illumination, only Raven stood. She thought of a dozen things to say that moment, but the one that came out was, "He always has to have the last word."

When a world dies, there is always a sort of doom to it. But as Raven buried her frozen limbs underneath the protection of her cloak and transported away from graffiti-ridden streets, she couldn't help but wonder whether new worlds brought a doom even Fate couldn't shake off.

* * *

_November 11, 12:14 a.m.  
Jump City, California_

Beast Boy held this eerie feeling that none of this would have happened if he hadn't been so angry at gravity.

Shape-shifting had a certain art to it; one that most heroes would never understand. It was scientific, mathematic – every step calculated, every transformation studied. A misplaced disc could paralyze; an enlarged heart could kill. It never became second nature; those who were careless died. If the transformation did not kill, the environment did. Gravity did not support birds with too small of wings; weight crushed apes with too weak of bones.

Beast Boy had spent years under hazardous conditions; first the plains of Africa, then the concrete jungles of California, and many places in between. Through the gazelle he learned to avoid even the most swollen fires; through the monkeys he learned to use the trees to his advantage. His days in the Doom Patrol taught him to move seamlessly through warehouses and upon concrete slabs, no matter his size. By the time he joined the Titans, he instinctively measured every situation before a battle, choosing his form and method of attack before Robin even had the chance to yell his famous line.

Beast Boy, admittedly, had been distracted when he barged into that warehouse. Even so, the bridge should have held him, even when he shook its foundation with that tyrannosaurus lunge; but gravity must have weighed a little heavier than yesterday because the bridge caved in upon impact, giving in and dropping Beast Boy and Slade's robots into crates of bottled aspirin. Perhaps if he had not been cursing gravity, he would have seen Robin drop his metal bo as his identity spilt from Slade's lips; perhaps if he did not have such frustration with the first miscalculation he had made in a month, he would have seen Slade corner Robin and grab him; perhaps if he did not feel the need to take out his anger on the surrounding 'bots, he would have heard Robin scream.

It was over, just like that. One moment cursing gravity, the next damning Slade. The warehouse choked and gagged on stale peppermint, drowning any chance Beast Boy had of sniffing Robin out. He took to the skies, scaling skyscrapers and dodging cars, but was forced back to peppermint air when Cyborg's systems received a shock from a rigged security camera. He consulted K'baazh the raven on the ledge of the melting, stained window as Starfire worked to revive Cyborg and Raven floated, muttering darkened words, in the corner. Telepathy failed, as did arousing Cyborg. They returned, heavyhearted, to the Tower as dogs and crows found their way through slums and grime, failing then when they had succeeded once before.

The city lights seemed duller as he stared down from an outside cliff. The city's large population of birds fidgeted around him. Bad reports from hundreds of distraught mouths hung scattered in the air, but Beast Boy forgot to listen. The flaps of their wings were louder than normal; his breaths slightly heavier than the last.

He blamed gravity.

Raven stood a few feet off, awaiting a bird to announce her presence. She was not sure why she came here, to _him, _exactly. Cyborg was the logical choice, not Beast Boy – not the clown, the optimist, the _shape-shifter. _Azarathis despised his kind. It took a year of arguments and fights to regard him as an acquaintance; a forced apprenticeship and a betrayal to consider him a friend; and the end of the world for her to realize her hypocrisy. They were both devils, in their own right: she the daughter of the Destroyer; he an abomination her people called a devil dog – both fates unwanted.

"Only devils fight devils –" the words of the head monk before Azarathi politics engulfed him, blinded him. Heroes weren't involved in bets, especially over lives. Better to confront a devil dog than a righteous princess or a justice-driven miscalculation.

A songbird, small in stature, stumbled onto paling green knuckles and sounded a melancholy cry that quieted the others. Beast Boy tensed slightly, his ears rising at the first noticed noise in hours. His shoulders sagged a moment later, his eyes finding far off lights instead of seeking hers. "I talked to the dogs… nuttin'. The cats saw nuttin'. Even the birds…" He allowed the songbird to cross finger to finger and watched halfheartedly as it took flight. "He's good – almost too good. The streets… they see everything."

_People do not just vanish. _Those were the words of Starfire only hours before Robin first heard Slade's name. People do vanish; outdated pictures on cartons fade after years of lying in waste.

"I sent K'baazh to Gotham," he continued, dismissing the other birds with a mundane flick of the wrist. "He's gonna get some Gotham birds ta take me there soon. The birds… the _bats _there don't miss a thing. Snarkel 'as got some dogs lookin' to see if some bats are here in Jump. Batman might'a sent 'em to, ya know, make sure sumthin' like this didn't happen."

Raven ignored the birds as they flew past, the force of their wings wrinkling her cloak. She simply nodded, her lips thinning into a deeper frown.

He glanced to her, his eyes scaling idly, then narrowing as his nostrils flared at the familiar scent. His mouth curved into a scowl. "You saw one of his robots…"

"I did," she said.

"… It wasn't near Robin."

She shook her head, causing her hood to slip. "No. The real Slade's with him."

"The scent's dead."

"Older model. Messenger."

He rolled his eyes towards the starless sky. "He thinks he can just send some 'bot and start makin' demands?" The Beast flickered behind his eyes, his face gaining animalistic features for a blink.

"I'm the one making the demands."

He gave her a surprised, slightly disgruntled look, his ears raised high; the first time in a while he was really _Beast Boy. _"Wha?"

"I made a bet with him. For Robin."

Her muscles tensed, awaiting some sort of onslaught; however, Beast Boy remained silent, his eyes drawn away from hers and back to the city lights. The wind picked up slightly, weaving Raven's cloak seamlessly through the air, making Beast Boy look slightly older. His brow knitted lightly before asking, "What're da terms?"

He listened as she spoke clearly, loudly, his facial expressions distorting from anger, to surprise, to hope, and finally he shifted, uncomfortable. "… We can't – we can't tell nobody?" he croaked.

"That's not our problem," Raven said. "The month is. Robin didn't just decide to become Boy Wonder one day."

He nodded slowly, his eyes catching a particularly bright light below. "… Do Cy and Star know anything 'bout this?"

"They will in the morning," she said. "We'll be in Gotham then, unless Snarkel finds the bats." She hovered to him, dirt waltzing clumsily in her wake. "We have nothing, Beast Boy, nothing we haven't fought for."

Another nod but lighter. Scattered birds blended with the sky, their shallow voices singing songs of lines between truths and lies.

"The Titans are finished. The Justice League will make sure of that." Starfire had her planet, her throne; Cyborg had his cars, his Titans East. Devils had nothing.

False evidence tightened like shrinking shells, the last and most fatal touches to be added by the League itself; both daughter and dog had been indirectly blamed for Robin's first disappearance a year before. Beast Boy would escape to plains of Africa; she to a dimension where clocks struck thirteen. Both places would hold nothing. "Even if you call yourself a hero," she mouthed, her tongue curling loyally around the words her father spoke, "you're always a devil to someone."

Beast Boy's grimace deepened as he arose boldly, his eyes tearing away from the brilliant light that had been brutally slaughtered only seconds before. The last scent of Slade hung ghostly on ocean air. "… Let's go to Gotham."

Devils fight for everything, especially the things they cannot afford to lose.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"…an eerie type of chaos can lurk just behind the façade of order – and yet, deep inside the chaos lurks an even eerier type of order."

- Douglas Hostadter

* * *

It is surprising, what can be seen in darkness. The streets of Gotham gasped in shadows, from its scarce uptown boulevards to its labyrinth of rotting slums. What tyranny, what betrayal, what death spawned from that city's rotting core. It brought darkness which boldly swam inches from light and effectively killed half-lit streetlamps. No man can escape its hushed lullaby, its frozen but comforting embrace, and from its lingering promises, criminals are born.

Under its veil, thieves swarm through alleyways looting and murdering the city's last dampened lights. In the moist caverns of a well-known boulevard, however, where constant shadow crept upon decaying stone, a hero emerged – raised in prosperity, nearly drowned as a witness to double murder, haunted and loved by both shadow and light; nightmare of nightmares; god amongst the godless; Black Prince; Guardian; Lord of Bats; King of Shadows –

Batman, the Dark Knight.

As he was crowned with shadow's darkness cape, the Bats of Gotham took their rule. A city controlled by alley dogs fell to the claws of bats, and though the Guardian crusaded for the innocent, he cared not for the affairs of cats and dogs. For enforcement of their rule, he received information. Bats were resourceful creatures; they were never hidden from the actions Gotham's darkness overshadowed. The darkness nurtured its villains but loved its demons more – faster demons, better demons; demons who could navigate their own way, demons that could see the shadow's hidden truth.

The bats were observant; they knew their own kind.

And bats knew devils when they saw them.

* * *

_November 11, 10:04 a.m._

_Gotham City, New Jersey_

Daylight rolled over a stain glass rounded sky, the light pouring onto concrete and casting a dull rainbow upon the floor. A green rat scurried amongst the colors, followed closely by an enigma in darker blue. While Beast Boy enjoyed the finer things and bathed in purple before stepping into artificial light, Raven caught every spider web, every speck of dirt, every fluttering piece of dust. She hated city hall. It resembled a temple where monks uttered lies weaved by political puppet masters.

She caught the receptionist's attention as she approached, flipping open a tattered fold. A metallic white badge played shadows with the light. "We are Beast Boy and Raven from Division 247: Teen Titans West, Jump City, California; Level 3 of JLI."

Beast Boy sprung into human form, startling the receptionist.

"Yes, um, of course," the receptionist said. "If you would just, uh…" She stood in search of any higher soul. The halls were empty. "… follow me, I can show you right where those are."

Her knock-off designer shoes smacked against concrete as she led them into complex halls. The sound echoed, fading into long shadows on the walls. Beast Boy, a grin spread across his face, evaded the floor's array of cracks but stopped his game with low-cast ears after Raven glared.

The receptionist quickened her pace.

She gripped a bundle of rusting keys as they approached a pair of stale vanilla doors. "This… isn't an-um-emergency, is it? Capes-er, heroes-don't usually make appearances unless…" She missed the lock twice with the correct key.

Beast Boy's lips twitched; Raven cut in. "No. The Oracle was supposed to call for these files weeks ago."

"Right-yes-of-course." She fiddled with the keys and unlocked the door. "The public records are down here. I'll send the paperwork to JLI–"

"We'll sign it on the way out," Raven said. "New policy."

"Okay, well, _haveaniceday._"

As the receptionist conquered hallways faster than before, Raven caught Beast Boy's arm. "Nothing's wrong," she reminded him.

His shoulders sagged. "I know." He chanced a sideways glance. "I was just gonna tell her she sorta looked like dat girl in Super Monkey Cops VI."

A blush, a chuckle – suppressed to a nervous gasp, but Raven ignored it. She passed him, disappearing as she traveled further down paint-chipped stairs. He followed.

The records room stood abandoned, musky, and mucus-like. The air tasted of dirt and cobwebs staked their claim on corners of the walls. Black metal racks with broken wheels formed mountains of disorganized files, smothered in dust and spider string. The lone computer, a piece of old personal hardware, stood with a layer of dust coating its screen.

Beast Boy's face contorted and scrunched as he covered his nostrils with his forearm. "Dude, this place _stinks! _Don'tcha think somebody'd at least clean up or sumthin'?"

Raven moved towards the computer and cleared the dust with her arm. "Gotham isn't exactly the place for _public_ records…" Dust from the keyboard kicked up into her eyes. She coughed. "Let's just get this computer working."

Complications led to thirty minutes of reboot and repairs by Beast Boy as Raven shuffled through shelf upon shelf of unorganized files. Her magic nearly tore a file in irritation.

"'Ey Raven, I found sumthin'!" In his excitement, Beast Boy nearly tipped over in the uneven chair. "An article, erm, three years ago 'bout him… leavin' Gotham?"

The file she closed shot dust into the air. She glanced up towards the creaking fan and its musky light. "So they do update this place…" She tossed the file onto the olive green plastic table then floated to Beast Boy. She leaned over his shoulder. "Grayson… boarding school in California…" She muttered off strings of sentences aloud. "It keeps mentioned a Bruce Wayne… Guardian perhaps?" A look towards Beast Boy dropped her stare into annoyance. "What?"

"_A_ Bruce Wayne? He owns, like, everything: Wayne Enterprises, Gamestation – just bought Innovative Technologies, like, last week. Even _Starfire _knows who he is! He's in the tabloids all the time." He blushed. "Cyborg an' I keep up on big names, 'kay?"

A light smile tried to grasp her lips, but it never came. "Rich then?" she said.

"Rich? Da guy probably eats yachts for breakfast!" Raven grasped the mouse and scrolled through the article as Beast Boy jiggled in his seat. "Man, Robin's _loaded_! No wonder he's got all dat nice stuff."

Raven's hand slipped off the mouse as the words spilled from his mouth. "… Yeah," she mumbled, "no wonder…" His words skipped into an image of a rich man donning a mask and cap and beside him a boy in streetlight colors. Her jaw dropped tipped. Mere observations were dangerous to make, especially in drear times, but Raven held to one lesson Robin taught her: in JLI, expect the unexpected, no matter how unexpected it is.

"Beast Boy," she said, "look up Bruce Wayne. Robin got his gadgets somewhere, and Bruce Wayne's it. Just look 'im up."

His eyebrows rose at the command, but he retrieved the mouse and typed furiously, an action only interrupted when a raven clicked its beak upon a muck-covered window. Beast Boy wandered over and greeted K'baazh.

The only true compliments Raven received in her youth were from her mother's lovely birds, but Animalic slipped her mind over the years. The language's harsh clicks evaded her, but she picked out traces of its telepathic words. "_I spoke… tried to… but the bats… rude, violent, _human." Even in her mind, the raven's words were muttered. "_I used… name of Cooms, but the bats in–" _(the name for the region was untranslatable) _"–do not respect dogs… outsiders…_"

Beast Boy's shoulders slumped. He spoke a few unknown words before he said, in English. "I'll be back, 'kay?" He transformed into a hawk and sprung into smog-filled air. K'baazh followed.

Her fingers splayed across scattered files as Raven drifted towards the computer. She draped her arms over the back of the chair and gazed at the most recent article: "Wayne Enterprises buys Innovative Technologies." The eyes of a too-muscular rich man stared back at her.

Wings slapped against the lone window, upsetting Raven's meditation. She straightened herself and looked to find three bats hanging from the window's outer lattice. Her arms slipped from off the chair as she approached with one, two, three slow steps.

A low growl drew her attention from brown bats to green dogs, and she dissipated into city hall's back alleyway.

There stood Beast Boy, a wolf – mouth clenched, teeth bearing, the hair on his back bent towards a cloud-covered heaven; and K'baazh nestled tightly on his pointed shoulder, blood from bat bites dripping off feathers onto fur. Hundreds of bats screeched the sky, all dropping from formation to hang off guardrails and detailed cement ledges. The pants of bat wings ruled the air, then silence.

Raven had been intimidated by streets before. The city dogs of Jump moved as one entity, one spirit like poison, and crushed stone with naked jaws; but Gotham's bats stood eerier, scarier perhaps, bringing chaos and order into one. Raven once faced better things, like demons, ghosts, and Slade, so she revealed no physical nerves; instead, she placed her hood upon her head and said, "Ask them where Batman is."

Beast Boy relaxed slightly, his gums falling over canines, then talked off into a clatter.

The bats screeched in interruption. Beast Boy backed a step with a sloppy grin and a nervous chuckle. The bats spoke as one. "_Dogs bow here. No questions!_"

A gust of wind flipped its way through alleyways and pulled on Raven's cloak. She shivered, strands of hair moving to stick to her face, but she moved forward, features tightening. "_Human_," she announced. The Animalic felt foreign on her tongue.

A car's honk took sound's place, but then bats gave up their fits of laughter. It carried down the alleyway. "_Demon,_" they accused.

Blackened lips curled around canines as Beast Boy stiffened his stance. His growl twisted his throat and his bark upset a number of bats. "_We're heroes._._ We need –" _

They hissed in return, "_The Great Bat wishes not to see heroes… leave!_"

A sudden clang alerted the bats, and when one took off, all followed. Their presence blotted Gotham's atmosphere but soon they dissipated past clouds and skyscrapers. Raven knew that no sound could scare the bats so witless, but instead a presence. She flipped around only to meet an empty alley. A low growl resounded from Beast Boy's throat. Then a voice came from on high:

"I must apologize for Gotham's bats. They are the most distrusting of creatures and do not show the proper respect for animals outside these walls, or in them, truly." A house cat, black fur stains blotting his lithe white body, removed himself from his fire-escape perch and landed with grace upon a dumpster a foot or two away. He flattened his ears and bowed his head, making his grin more prominent. "Perhaps _I _could be of better assistance?"

Raven crossed her arms, her shoulders raising as her mouth quirked further downwards. He was not what she expected. "You speak English."

"Why yes, dear girl, if only language proves my worth."

K'baazh shifted on Beast Boy's shoulder. The wolf drew his ears back and revealed canines as he spoke. "You're a cat. Sorry, but even on da west coast you don't got authority."

"A lack of authority does not always mean a lack of information. I am a street, after all, not some silly house pet that keeps out of common affairs." He allowed a chuckle. "I know of the heroes and villains of human society, the Great Bat in particular. He wishes to reinforce his presence, but why intimidate with prying eyes when he, the greater threat, lurks in the shadows?"

Raven turned away, lowering her arms and allowing her cloak to engulf her. "We don't have time for this. Come on, Beast Boy." She took a step, then two, in the opposite direction.

"I can escort you. To the cave. Or perhaps it's a certain _mansion _you want?"

Raven took her last step and looked over her shoulder. Her hood slipped off.

The cat's grin faded into a smirk as he spoke. "Do you think we streets simply ignore the bats as they fly overhead towards home? Their prying eyes falsely intimidate for the Great Bat has left his city, even if his absence is dangerously temporary. Bats by daytime take his place."

Beast Boy launched to his feet, the wag of his tail and body nearly knocking K'baazh off his perch. "Did ya hear dat, Raven? He can–"

"–lead us into one of the deadliest lairs in the world," she droned. "Wonderful."

The cat shrugged his shoulders and placed his left paw forward. "Deadly perhaps, but such is not the word to describe it. Instead use… _informative. _I cannot imagine your exact desires, dear girl, but I digress – the cave of the Great Bat holds many treasures. They may not sparkle, but is knowledge not greater than gold?"

The world I knew has ended, she realized as rain clouds smudged Gotham's sky. No longer could long-drawn thoughts or second-guesses folic in common sense, but instead quick decisions, quick observations, quick ideas reigned. She hated to leave her distrust, her critical eye in such a feeble state, to say with such conviction that Bruce Wayne is Batman, to say this cat could led to a clue to save a life; but yesterday, she woke up to Robin cooking pancakes, and truly everything has changed.

She stepped forward, caught a glance from Beast Boy, and then said, "Take us there."

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"… if I had to choose between betraying my country and betraying my friend, I hope I should have the guts to betray my country."  
– E.M. Forster

* * *

_November 11, 9:49 p.m.  
Jump City, California_

The city breathed light-hearted ignorance that Tuesday night, but city lights and friendly nights escaped him. Yesterday Cyborg walked these streets accompanied by green boy enthusiasm and leader's subtle energy, but tonight he moved alone, slightly cold, with only "I'll be back," to reassure her. He fell from crowded boulevards to lesser streets and faded into alleyways where lights flicker and dogs bite; and tightly clutched in a metal fist was a bunched-up uniform and beaten communicator, orange-and-black.

"_I…_" There had been a loss of words from Raven too early that morning, a rarity that clouded Cyborg and reassured his shock, which masked fear and hate and anger and betrayal, only to fuel the disbelief. To imagine Raven in some goddamn alleyway playing with his best friend's life, even worse Slade breaking Robin because of her careless disregard…

And he did nothing.

At least Starfire cried.

He exploded only after timid goodbyes. Cyborg had stalked across the living room, an empty couch and a pleading Starfire the only audience to a fury he held only for Brother Blood – or maybe for his father, he wasn't sure – but he screamed and raged and cursed, blaming himself, blaming everything else: Raven, faceless and unconcerned; Beast Boy, too quiet, too distracted to object; Starfire, a bloody mess but ever faithful; and Robin – damn Robin who _refused_ to tell a soul, who was so selfish in his selflessness, who decided it better to lose some bet instead of trusting in them_, _his friends, his _family_!

… but morning had rushed to day and day dragged on 'til night, and after hours of security tapes and stale barbeque chips, the fury so vivid died to a dull anger – deep in his chest, apparent on his face, but only stiffening his actions instead of exaggerating them. And now he wandered through damp alleyways towards slums but failed to find the peace.

The dumpster that gripped the edge of the alley laid alone, roof caved in, sides graffitied. He stood for a moment, a haggard breath escaping his trembling lips, then kicked the dumpster deeper into alley space. Gripping the communicator tighter, he kicked harder, forcing it to dip to its left. Another kick, another, tougher and tougher, 'til it laid murdered on its side, guts of garbage pooling from its mouth. His arm flung back and he pelted the communicator into the remnants, watching it sink into the mass.

He stepped back, shoulders loosening and fists unfolding, but could not rip himself from the sight. Anger snapped deep down inside and he rushed forward, metal overcastting the communicator, a foot rising to collapse it into night. He tensed then, but the shatter never came; instead, a memory flashed of the night after that first apprenticeship, when kitchen lights blinded and coffee dripped so loud, but Robin wouldn't mumble, wouldn't gabble, so Cyborg must have imagined that moment of swallowed pride, of insecurity; must have made up Robin apologizing more to a water bottle than Cyborg himself – god, must have been so_ stupid _ to believe him when he _lied through his fucking teeth _and promised to never leave again… but couldn't have missed the instant he said he'd never hesitate to make that sacrifice again.

And he kept his word.

… his foot landed to the communicator's left and slipped between the garbage bags, and the communicator nearly tumbled underneath; but a lone, trembling hand drew it back into existence, up past trash and uniform and grime, only to find the reflection of an 'S', taunting, nearly laughing – enough to hang his head.

_Perhaps-maybe – no…_ there wasn't _time _for investigations anymore… there wasn't _time_ for actions or justice; just a month to wait around useless as Raven did what she thought was right: to doom a team, to ruin a life, to unsettle everything they had ever worked for… and oh how he still _hated _her; hated her and her heavy eyes and her trembling when she had hugged him and said goodbye; hated Beast Boy and his pseudo-loyalty and his avoidance when he walked out that door; hated Starfire and her misplaced faith and her optimism at all the wrong moments; hated Robin and his pride and his so-called selflessness when he sold his life; but he especially hated _himself _for loving them so much... for his willingness to betray every moral, every conscious thought just to see one of them smile.

He snatched the uniform and mangled it over the metal 'S'. He had Starfire to get home to…

* * *

In that next hour, he submitted the Titan's daily report… and signed as Robin.

* * *


End file.
